Hang Me in the Stars
by YFWE
Summary: A fox and a rabbit have a heart-to-heart back home in Bunnyburrow.


**Written while on a bit of a John Moreland kick. Ended up partially naming it after one of his great, great songs called "Hang Me in the Tulsa County Stars." Highly recommended if you enjoy some good ol' Americana, especially more of the acoustic/quasi-folk or –country variety.**

 **Anyway, uh, hope it's decent!**

 **Hang Me in the Stars**

"Looks kinda like a lion."

"Ya think?"

"Yeah, like one with a mane or something. Think about it."

Gideon Grey did eventually think about it, and, despite claims to the contrary, he was not seeing it.

Then again, he was a little rusty. Skygazing had never been his forte, not even when he was in high school and got even remotely decent at it, back when on warm nights there was little to do around the house other than to stargaze, to sit outside on the freshly cut front lawn or stare out of a window with a passable view of them, eyes affixed to the sky, mind somewhere else entirely.

Not that one could be good at it. Well, or so he thought, but here was Judy Hopps anyway, finding shapes in the sky he could not even begin to fathom.

"Eh… c'mon, Judy, I dunno 'bout that one," Gideon responded after a thought, shaking his head softly against the grassy ground.

Judy's head entered his peripheral vision at that, sitting up from her own lazy recline. She rubbed the back of her head, dusting off stray blades of grass and specks of dirt.

"You're taking this too seriously, Gid."

"I dun—"

The rabbit placed a paw to her lips, shushing him gently. The sleeves of the hoodie she wore over her body slid down over her arms a bit, and she fussed with them shortly afterward, pulling each stray sleeve back over her paws.

"It's all about your imagination," she said, placing her paws in her lap and glancing back up at the sky. "Your eyes see what they want to see. No right or wrong answer, really."

Shrugging, the fox rolled his eyes, sliding a paw beneath the back of his head to act as a cushion between him and the grass. "Guess I ain't got much of one, then, huh?"

"Sure you do. It's just different from mine."

That was an understatement, Gideon thought; everything was different between the two of them, right? A fox and a rabbit, two former enemies in childhood who did not associate with each other as they grew older, a local baker and a star police officer in the biggest city in the world.

And yet, here they were. If you had told Gideon he would be stargazing with the bunny who had kicked him in the face at the Carrot Days festival years and years before, he would have called them a liar.

"So, how about you tell me what you see?"

He had hoped she would not ask that.

"Uh… I dunno… a cloud?"

"…you think a star pattern up there looks like a cloud?"

"I'm much better at finding shapes in clouds, anyway," the fox replied with a defensive tone.

Judy remained silent for a few moments, Gideon watching her violet eyes as they scanned slowly over the light-dotted black map above them, eventually resting on one spot. He followed her line of sight to the moon, which shone bright over the wide-stretching fields of Bunnyburrow, producing the slightest illumination despite the late hour.

He caught her in a brief smile before her attention returned to him.

"We'll try that game another time."

Gideon smirked, closing his eyes as he basked in moonlight and a small, evanescent breeze. "I'll practice before ya visit next time."

And of course there would be a next time. Gideon, frankly, had wondered after their first reunion, when he found Judy at her parents' farm, moping over a lost chance at happiness in Zootopia before receiving the epiphany of a lifetime (thanks in part to him, no less, he later learned), if he would see her again. Not that it mattered too much; he had said what he needed to say, apologized for his behavior as a kit, what else was there to discuss between them?

Fate, of course, can have a funny way of playing tricks on someone, though. As the partnership between Gideon and the Hopps farm ramped up in both revenue and overall stock, trips to the Hopps' side of Bunnyburrow became more and more frequent. Gideon was on practically a first-name basis with each one of the Hopps kids still living at home (he still mixed up June and Jane, but he could not help that they had such similar names and looked practically identical) and stopped by the homestead four or five times a week, sometimes staying for dinner if Bonnie Hopps offered (and she always, _always_ offered).

So Judy and Gideon continued to see each other, moving past general niceties at first toward a deeper understanding of what the other did, how their lives had unfolded up to that point, their hobbies. After a while, Gideon considered the bunny even – dare he say it – a friend, and though neither of them had ever discussed the branding, he could tell Judy agreed.

At least, she did not hate him anymore. There was that. Always that.

Now was probably the eighth or ninth such visit – no less than that, but possibly more, Gideon had trouble pinpointing the exact number. Judy had not been in town for a month and a half by then, returning in the late spring to see a dozen of her siblings graduate high school. The ensuing graduation party had been gigantic, a tiring affair that no one involved really felt like they would recover from for a few days.

The present night was decidedly much calmer.

"When you gotta head back in tomorrow?" the fox asked after a bout of silence.

"Train leaves at 6 a.m. on the dot. If I miss it, I'll miss roll call entirely."

"Yeesh. Early mornin'."

Judy leaned back on her paws, stretching the rest of her body out in front of her. She was slightly ahead of him on the ground; one of her paws barely brushed against the side of his blue-checkered flannel shirt as she resituated herself.

"I don't mind. I'm usually up that early anyway. Like to get a run in before work." She reared her head back so she was looking at him, albeit upside down. "When do you have to wake up?"

"7. Or 8. Sorta whenever I want, really." He flashed a small, toothy grin. "Small business owner, I set my own hours, ain't chained to society."

"Uh huh. I'm sure my parents looooove when you roll in at 3 when they were expecting you at 10," the rabbit chuckled with an eye roll.

"Oh, I'm always on time, Judy. But because _I_ wanna be."

"Strong, carefree, so-independent-it-hurts Gideon is an interesting look on you. I wish I actually believed it."

With a quick, barked laugh, the fox rolled over onto his side, facing the rabbit. "Aw, ya know I'm kiddin'."

"Oh, no, you're in too deep now, no backing out now, Gid. How's this brand new outlook on life helping you in the dating department, huh?"

"It's, uh…"

Gideon did not think he had been mute for as long as he apparently had been, because before he knew it, he was stirred by Judy waving a paw in front of his face.

"Hey. Heeeeey. I didn't break you, did I?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, no! Sorry, heh," he waved her paw away with a short snicker. "Really zoned there, huh?"

"Little bit." There was the slightest twinge of concern upon Judy's countenance before she shook it off, staring past the fox a little ways toward her childhood home, from which fluorescent white light still streamed via open windows and the back doorway, where Bonnie would occasionally appear to empty some of the trash from that evening's dinner.

She smiled. "Finally quieting down a little in there. Didn't think it'd ever happen."

"Feel like graduation's always been like that. Shoot, even when we moved outta elementary school. Remember that?"

"I remember you trying to push me down the stairs of the stage when I accepted my diploma, yeah."

"'Least you got one. I guess they didn't even want me to move outta the fourth grade with y'all."

Her eyes had wandered again to the moon as they spoke. Gideon almost pointed it out, but the bunny had begun speaking again before he could.

"I wish they'd close the windows, though," she said, jerking her head back toward the house. "Dad prefers a cool home, but cheese and crackers, this would be cold even for Carrot Days." She either added an extra shiver for good measure or shuddered simply because she was thinking of the slight chill in the air.

Gideon shrugged, lifting himself from the ground and settling into a cross-legged sitting position. "Yep, for spring, ain't much sunshine lately. Hope it don't affect the crops."

"I'm sure it'll catch up," conceded Judy, taking her turn to lie on her side in the grass. "We'll have to come back out this summer, get away from the kids. This is nice."

"Company ain't bad either," the fox nodded with a grin.

"Aw, look at you, saying something charming. You sure you didn't kidnap the old Gideon and take his place?"

"Don't look in my shed."

This caused a fairly formidable fit of laughter on Judy's part, one that forced her onto her stomach as she rolled over, head in her forearm, her body silent but occasionally heaving final tremors of glee into her hoodie sleeve.

"OK, it wasn't that funny…"

"No, no," Judy rolled over again, her back rustling against the grass. "Sorry, it's just…" A guffaw escaped her throat again.

"Uh…"

"Bobby Catmull used to joke about that in like the eighth grade, said we should never go into your shed. It was when you weren't, you know… messing with us anymore, but were super brooding and, like, angsty. He said you were trying to lay low so you wouldn't attract attention and let someone find the bodies in there," Judy explained.

Gideon had to admit it was sort of funny.

"It was just the eighth grade, though," she continued, catching his eye. "We weren't, you know, always talking behind your back or something. Just being dumb middle schoolers."

"Naw, I get it."

"You seen Bobby lately, by the way? I can never seem to catch him when I'm in town."

Gideon nodded. "Once. His ma bought a couple cherry pies a few months ago. We said hello. He's tryin' to move to Zootopia, actually."

"Get out!"

"Might be drummin' for some Rat Pack cover band, I guess. I'm sure you'll get the social media invite."

"Yeah. You should come to the city for it! Bring some friends from back home. I can introduce you to mine," said Judy eagerly.

"Shucks, Judy, Zootopia? That's a little far to see a show, don't y'think?"

She rolled over onto her side, facing him again.

"Take a vacation," she said; Gideon heard it more as an order than a recommendation.

"I—"

The bunny hopped to her feet, paws splayed out to either side as though holding up the idea in the air and presenting it to her friend. "No, seriously! You, maybe Sharla can come out, couple others – I could help pay for food or some things if you need help, since you're coming all that way. It'd be nice to show someone from town the big city!"

"Don't your family visit?"

"Yeah, but they're not _fun_." Momentarily her ears swiveled toward the house, making sure her parents or someone else from her family were not approaching.

"Oh, and I am?" Gideon asked with a chuckle.

"In the city? I bet you would be. Absolutely starstruck, mostly." She rested a paw on her chin thoughtfully. "Oh, and you can meet Nick!"

"W-who's Nick?"

Her eyes were on the stars again – or maybe it was the moon? Skyward, certainly, and Gideon was about to prod a bit, try to coax a vocalized response, before she came back down among the living and decidedly earthbound.

"He's… he's a friend. A good friend." She shot him a small grin. "A… fox, actually!"

"No kiddin', that's the one who helped you solve the night howlers case out there?"

Judy nodded, her grin widening. "And my partner on the police force, more recently."

Gideon remembered the news that was piped in from Zootopia that fateful day when Bunnyburrow's own Judy Hopps uncovered and stopped in its tracks a conspiracy from Zootopia's mayor herself, becoming a city-wide hero of sorts, even a minor celebrity for a time. He recalled the fox – Nick, was it? – being there, thrust into the spotlight sometimes seemingly against his will and wishes, but attention in town generally fell to Judy. And why would it not? She was theirs after all, a hometown bunny suddenly on a worldwide stage for all the right reasons.

But even in subsequent months, as Judy continued to visit home and Gideon learned a little more each time about Zootopia and her place in its oddly mechanical hustle and bustle, her co-workers only came up occasionally. Usually that was because Judy never liked to dwell too long on what she continued menial talk of police work, preferring to catch up with the goings-on in her hometown or to discuss some new restaurant or museum in the city. He assumed it was deliberate, and it made sense; one could only talk about themselves so much.

"Well, I'll be," Gideon said after a small pause. "They stuck a rabbit with a fox at the ZPD. Now I gotta meet this guy."

"Yeah! You'll like him. Just ignore whatever nickname he gives you. It's out of love, I swear."

"Heh. Nickname."

Judy looked down at him quizzically.

"Get it? Like, nick-name. Nick name. Since his name is Nick."

She rolled her eyes. "That's awful."

"Terrible."

"I'm gonna point it out to him when I get home. He'll probably make fun of me for not figuring it out sooner," she said with a frown.

"Would he do that?"

"Without hesitation."

Gideon smiled. "So what do you like about him?"

It was an innocent question, Gideon thought, but apparently it set off some kind of chemical reaction within his friend that neither he nor she was prepared for.

"Wha?! Who said anything about like? I didn't say it, did I?" Judy waved her outstretched paws in front of her, shaking her head.

"Er… naw, I just meant, like, why is he a friend? Why do y'all hang out?"

"Oh. Oh, right."

The fox eyed Judy suspiciously as she sat back down, sighing wearily as she did so.

"We, uh…" the rabbit started, resting her paws in her lap as she glanced up at Gideon's expectant look, "I guess we just got close during the night howler case, and then we... kept hanging out, you know? We didn't want to just cut it off like that. We weren't friends when the whole thing started," she said with a quick chuckle, shaking her head softly, "but then we decided we wanted to be."

"Well, sure. Sounds like y'all made a great team."

Nodding, Judy smiled. "And then I convinced him to apply to the ZPD. I didn't know if he'd get in, or even if Chief Bogo would allow us to be partners even if he was accepted. But I knew he'd make a good cop, and I guess me believing in him sorta… rubbed off on him too, so he said he would try out."

She glanced away for a moment, though, almost reflexively, defensively. She seemed to consider the sky, darker than before as the dead of night loomed closer and closer. "I guess then… well, I don't know what happened."

"What do y'mean?" asked Gideon quietly, leaning in slightly. His tail swished behind him in impatience, though slowly, coolly.

The rabbit laid down on her back again, adjacent to Gideon's sitting form. He heard her sigh, a deep, long exhalation that bordered on being louder than anything she had said that night up to that point.

"You know how we have to go through academy training beforehand? Find out if we're good enough to even make it on the squad?"

Gideon nodded. "You graduated top of your class, right? And it's a long process, too. I remember your parents talkin' 'bout it."

"Couple of months. Nick had to do it too, of course. That was it for a little while. Just… he was there. And I was in Zootopia."

The fox cocked his head, his brain slowly working toward conclusive evidence of where this conversation was headed. "Didn't y'all talk some?"

"Of course. We MuzzleTimed at least once a week, texted when he was off for the night," said Judy, adding, as though her previous summation was not enough: "We kept in touch."

"So… what was the problem, then? Sounds normal enough."

Judy rolled onto her stomach, slightly facing Gideon but also the Hopps house, where a few lights had gone out since she and Gideon initially trudged outside. She crossed her arms in front of her and rested her chin atop of them, heaving a great sigh again. "It's… stupid."

"…yeah?" was all Gideon could muster. He did not, after all, have a formidable amount of expertise in this field, he reckoned, of being able to listen to someone's problems as well as coax anything out of them. Which normally would not be a problem, except Judy seemed to need to talk, to get something off her chest, and he did not mind being that confidante. That did not mean, however, that he knew exactly how to go about it.

Luckily, Judy was quick with her response. "I'm gonna tell you something… a little weird. If that's OK." She gave the fox a side-eyed glance for a brief second before averting her gaze again.

"Whatever y'need to say, Judy."

"I think I… I dunno. Look, Gid, after the night howler thing, I suddenly had all these people wanting to be my friend," Judy began, slowly, as though choosing her words delicately. "And that was weird. Like, I didn't mind it, but all the attention was a little shocking, a little much sometimes. But I kept up appearances, hung out with my fellow officers more, made some friends. It wasn't all bad.

"Except what I realized – and not necessarily at first, but eventually – was that, even despite all that, even though I suddenly had all this attention and all these mammals who wanted to be in my life, even _marriage proposals in the mail_ for goodness' sake, I was never happier than when I talked to Nick on the phone. I looked forward to it each week, practically skipped home when I knew we would be talking that night. Hated hanging up the phone when we were done. You know what I mean?"

"Back up. Marriage proposals?"

Groaning, Judy waved a paw in Gideon's direction, nearly slapping him on the right wrist. "Please don't make me think about it any longer. They were _persistent_."

"I'll bet. Someone who asks someone to marry 'em without ever meetin' 'em must be a special brand of loopy."

"A little bit. You're missing the point, though."

"Naw," said Gideon with a quick chuckle. "I think I do get it. I'm pretty sure I know exactly what you're gonna say next, I reckon."

"…yeah?"

"Yeah. You like this fox. Like, _like_ like."

Judy glanced at Gideon sheepishly, nearly grimacing. As though her admittance was the strangest thing someone could possibly ever come up with within the confines of their ever-reaching mind.

"Well, what's wrong with that?"

"I mean… there's nothing _wrong_ with it…" Judy trailed off.

"'Course there ain't. I hear that kinda thing happens all the time in the big city. We're a little behind out here, but shoot, I wouldn't bat an eye. You know, a cousin of mine ended up with a wolf. They met in kindergarten, lifelong friends, hid their feelings all along because they thought society wouldn't let 'em be together. Ended up stoppin' carin'. Think they own a ranch out in Deerbrooke."

"Yeah, at least a wolf and a fox are a little similar, though, aren't they?"

"Well, then, get this. I had a thing for Sharla in high school."

"I don't – wait, you _what_?!"

Funnily enough, to him at least, Gideon had never admitted this to anyone. Heck, he barely recognized it within his own self, staring back at his reflection in the bathroom mirror each morning before high school, combing his fur in a way he thought might get some sheep to notice him.

And while he was not completely certain why he decided Judy would be the first to hear it, he realized he in no way minded it either.

"It was just a crush," he said with a wave of his paw, shrugging. "I dunno, Judy. She was cute, I thought. Wore them nice little sundresses every day to school and I liked 'em, plus she was nice to me even though I didn't deserve it. Y'know? I didn't pursue it or anything since our high school was a little… well, I definitely don't think a whole lot of mammals would've thought too highly of it."

Which was downplaying it; in his mind, Gideon would have roped down every single star in the sky for her if she asked for it. But its actual depth was a story for another day, and one that might be better suited for a certain sheep who still lived in town, one day, if life was good.

Judy listened intently, clearly surprised at the revelation; after all, Sharla had been a friend her entire life, and they remained in contact every so often, texting to catch up when they thought about it, visiting for coffee when Judy was in town. And high school, anyway, was like a book one had already read and experienced, cover to cover, so many times that any new information that came of it was such a welcome, but astonishing, exposé.

Finally, after a few beats: "You think mine's just a crush, too?"

"Oh, so you ain't already dating?" asked Gideon.

"No…"

"Sorry, I just assumed, since it's been a while since the night howler stuff and all, maybe by now you'd…"

He did not know how to finish the sentence.

Sighing, Judy rolled back over onto her back, staring up at the stars. He saw the moon reflected in her half-closed violet eyes.

"I can't tell what he thinks," she confessed quietly, her face scrunched up in an expression not of pain, nor sadness. It was tough to place, but mostly Gideon read… confusion. Uncertainty.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Like, Nick's… Nick's great. He's fun, mostly. I have a good time with him, and I think he gets me like a lot of mammals don't. We're far from the same person, but I think we work as friends and as partners. We play off each other well."

"That's great!" said Gideon with a smile.

"Sure, but what if that's all it's meant to be? A really good friendship? I don't think I'd ruin anything by admitting something deeper; I don't think he'd shut me out. But I guess I just…" she paused, "I can't decide if it's worth it to say something. To see if he'd even consider me in the same way, whatever it is. Or if all I'm feeling is just some deep platonic friendship sort of thing, not something romantic.

"But we come out and do this sometimes – what you and I are doing, I mean. Sometimes it's on a shift, sometimes after one. But we'll look up in the sky, talk about the stars, the moon. And about life. Just… whatever, Gid, whatever comes to mind."

Gideon grinned as he followed her gaze into the sky. "Sounds nice. You two've got somethin' good."

"And then when I come out here," she continued, barely skipping a beat, "I… it's weird, but I find myself wondering if maybe he's doing the same thing, except without me. If he's looking up at the moon too, and that we're looking up at the same one at the same time. Like we're together, even though we're not."

"Heh. With all the times I've caught ya lookin' at it tonight, I'll bet y'all have crossed paths at some point."

Laughing, Judy looked over at the fox. "You think?"

"Know so. And… look, I'll tell ya, Judy, what you two got… it sounds great, if ya don't mind me sayin'. I mean it, it does."

"Thanks, Gid."

"Which is why all I'll tell ya," he said, sitting up again but keeping his gaze on the stars, "is to follow your heart, do what feels right. I don't wanna say you should do one thing or the other, just what feels the best to ya, whatever that is. But," he added, shooting her a small, toothy smile, "I'm glad ya told me. That you thought you could trust me."

"Of course," the bunny murmured, returning the smile. "Same to you, Gideon Grey. I won't tell Shar, I swear."

"Ha. Good. Let's keep that one a Hopps farm exclusive." He could not decide if it would remain that way on his part.

They stayed there for a few moments, silent, soaking up the moonlight and its crisp glow upon the lawn outside the Hopps' barn before Judy, after a long yawn, got to her feet. Her phone slipped out of the pocket of her hoodie, though if she noticed, the rabbit did not seem to mind.

"I'm gonna go get a drink. You want one? I'll be back out, if you wanna stay out here."

"Sure, I'm good for another hour or so. Somethin' diet would be swell, thanks."

"You got it. Be right back!"

He watched her go, the rabbit bounding back toward the home in which she grew up, where she saw Bonnie Hopps in a window, cleaning a few stray dishes. It would be a late night, but hey, he made his own hours, Gideon reminded himself, remember?

But in all seriousness, he would be awake at 7 the following morning, no matter what. Pies were not going to deliver themselves.

A light brighter than the sky above them caught his eye, and Gideon's gaze was diverted to the phone on the ground. Judy had hers set up in a way that incoming texts would be shown on the lock screen, and she had just received one – a photo message, in fact.

Gideon did not decide to dwell on it for too long, respecting his friend's privacy as much as he could. To that end, he did not see the message that accompanied the photo.

But he did see the picture itself: an image of the night sky into which they had been staring, albeit fainter, probably due to the artificial light of the city of Zootopia. The moon sat in the middle of the photo, strikingly framed against the backdrop of stars and a few high-rise apartment buildings.

And even without looking, he was fairly certain he knew who had sent it.

 **END**


End file.
